


Chemistry Final

by mahisquared



Series: 2Fords [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, older ford, teen stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahisquared/pseuds/mahisquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2Fords AU. Stan needs to re-take a chemistry test for "Mr. Forrester's" class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry Final

“Ugh, I’m so glad Forrester is letting me take the practical late,” Stan said to his brother as they walked over to the chemistry wing. “I mean, I’m going to bomb this final, but fuck, at least it won’t be as bad as it would’ve if I hadn’t done half the test!”

“Aw, you’ll do fine,” Ford said consolingly. Their chemistry final had been split into two parts over two days. The first was a typical, written final. The second was a practical, where they would demonstrate their knowledge in a lab setting. Stan had gotten a bout of food poisoning (he knew he shouldn’t’ve eaten that weird tasting salad dressing at the restaurant) and had to stay home the day of the final. A phone call later, his mother happily told him that Mr. Forrester would be fine letting him take the final late, and wouldn’t dock him points for not doing it on time. They scheduled a time after school, so that none of his classes would be interrupted.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Ford asked when they arrived at the door to Mr. Forrester’s class.

“No, you can head on home,” Stan said. “I…I don’t know how long it’s gonna take. I don’t want to make you wait forever.”

“Well if you’re sure…” Ford said, trailing off.

“Yeah I am,” Stan said with a smile. “The walk home isn’t that far, I’ll be fine getting there on my own.”

Ford gave him a tiny wave, and Stan turned the door knob and entered his chemistry classroom. As usual, it was brightly lit, and there were rows of acid resistant lab tables. But unlike normal, there were different stations on said tables. There were Bunsen burners, beakers, bottles, and some intriguing looking liquids that looked like they had labels, but Stan wasn’t close enough to read them. And sitting atop his own desk was Mr. Forrester.

For an old guy, Stan thought he looked pretty good. He had an interesting streak of gray that wrapped around his head, and a very chiseled face, almost statue like. Hearing the door creak open, Mr. Forrester looked up, and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Stanley! Right on time!”

“Didn’t want to miss it again,” Stan said, scratching the back of his head. “So um, what am I doing?”

“You,” Mr. Forrester said, picking up a bottle full of…something, “Will be identifying this substance by any means possible, with the exception of sticking it in your mouth. You can burn it, you see how it reacts to different acids–”

“Acids?” Stan said, eyeing the innocent looking liquids.

“Yes, uh, you’ll want to be careful,” Mr. Forrester said, averting his gaze. “That one there,” he said pointing to the one on the far right, “Can actually eat through human flesh in seconds…so if you choose to use it, uh, be careful please. Anyway, go around to the different stations, test your substance, record your findings, and when you’re positive you know precisely what you have, write it down, along with your name and period, on the slip of paper attached to the bottle. Simple?”

“Yeah!” Stan lied. There was no way he was going to pass.

First he went and burned some of it, and it turned an interesting purple color. What turned purple when burned? He couldn’t remember. After a few more tests from the different stations, Stanley racked his brains, and felt completely lost.

“Cesium maybe?” he mumbled. Who knew? Not him. He scrawled down his answer and brought it over to Mr. Forrester, who accepted it with a smile. As Stan turned to go, Mr. Forrester cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said casually, “I wouldn’t recommend giving blow jobs where anyone could see.”

Stan froze, and slowly turned on the spot. Mr. Forrester was thumbing through a stack of papers, a calm look on his face.

“What did you say?” Stan said, positive that he hadn’t heard correctly.

“I think,” his teacher said, licking a thumb and forefinger to get a better grip on paper in front of him, “that what I said does need repeating.”

When Stan didn’t say anything, Mr. Forrester continued. “Yesterday, I walked out to my car, but realized that I’d forgotten something in my classroom. So, I took a short cut through the baseball field and what did I see but a pair of twins having sex in the dugout. So,” he said, looking up and leaning forwards slightly, “I would recommend paying attention to your surroundings when you decide to blow your own brother.”

“I-I-I…” Stan stuttered, but honestly, he had no idea what he was going to say. He’d been caught red handed, by a teacher!

“You’re very lucky that I didn’t report you,” Mr. Forrester said, sitting up straight. “I considered it, you know. Going to the principal. Your poor parents, what would they say? But I decided not to.”

Stan had gone temporarily mute. Where was this going? If his teacher had no intention of reporting him, why was he bringing it up? What was even the point?

“But I still could, you know.”

“You wouldn’t!” Stan managed to say in strangled voice.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Mr. Forrester said with a wicked grin. “I would be less inclined to tell on you if you give me something I want.”

“What is it?” Stan said in a panicked tone of voice. “Just let me know, I’ll get it for you, anything you want. Please, just don’t tell!”

“I want a couple of things, and the first thing I want is for you to sit on my desk and answer some questions.”

Stan blinked at him. “Do I have to sit on your desk?”

“Yes.”

Stan set his bag down on the floor and walked over to his teacher’s desk, and sat on the very edge. Mr. Forrester seemed satisfied with this.

“How long have you been fucking your brother?”

“Excuse me?” Stan said, eyes flying wide open.

“Answer the question or I leave the room and tell the principal.”

Stan gulped. “That…that was our first…and only time. So far.”

“Tell me Stan, was he any good?”

“Um, what do you mean?” Stan asked, shifting ever so slightly. 

“Well if you blew him, I’m assuming he either blew you first, or returned the favor,” Mr. Forrester said, in that same, weird, casual tone of voice. It sounded for all the world as if he was discussing something as mundane as the weather. “So I want to know if your brother was any good.”

“I don’t know,” Stan said, face flaming hot, and looking anywhere but at his chemistry teacher. “He didn’t go down on me or anything.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Forrester said, an odd tone to his voice that Stan didn’t like. “Well, that’s rude of him. I always reciprocate.”

“You what?”

“When someone goes down on me, it’s only polite to return the favor. I would never leave my partner wanting.”

Stan wasn’t really sure how to respond to that so he opted for silence.

“I do suppose,” Mr. Forrester continued, cocking his head, “That sometimes it’s nice to just give. To make the person you’re with happy. Was that the goal? Were you not intending to receive?”

“M-mr. Forrester, I don’t really feel comfortable answer–”

“You will answer my questions Stanley Pines. I am not afraid to talk to the higher ups. I am not afraid to call home. What would your parents do if they knew what their twin boys were really up to? Think about that before you decide to try and not answer me when I ask you something. You did say you would give me whatever I wanted.”

Well shit, he had said that, hadn’t he?

“Well, I did want to…you know, but I mean, he was tired and…and didn’t really want to. I wasn’t gonna like, make him or anything.”

“So you were left disappointed.” Mr. Forester said, a crooked smile on his face. “Well that’s enough questions. But…there’s still something I want.”

“What?” Stan asked warily.

“You.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

Suddenly Mr. Forrester’s hands were on his hips, spinning him around, dragging him across the desk so that he was in front of his seated teacher.

“What do you think I mean?” he said, stroking the insides of Stan’s thighs.

“You want me to…you want to…?” Stan said incredulously, looking down at the wide hands touching him, massaging his thighs. He wouldn’t admit it, but damn did that feel nice.

“Yes, yes I do,” Mr. Forrester said in low, rumbling voice. “I want to take care of you Stanley. I don’t expect anything in return…yet.”

“Yet?” Stan asked weakly.

“Correct,” his teacher said, biting his lower lip. “Right now all I want to do is pick up where you and your brother left off.”

“Y-you could get fired for this!” Stan said, attempting to back away, but Mr. Forrester stopped rubbing his thighs, and grabbed hold of Stan’s hips in a vice like grip so that he couldn’t escape. “If I told–!”

His teacher laughed out loud at this. “If you told? I don’t think you understand what I’ve been doing. I am fantastic. Everyone here loves and respects me. I have worked hard to get my reputation to where it is so that I can pull whatever stunts I want. Nobody would believe you, especially with the reputation that you have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan said, slightly offended, as he tried to wriggle free.

“You are a known liar and a cheat. You have poor grades, you never pay attention, and you’ve had how many detentions now? If you told anyone in charge of me that I’d come on to you, they would laugh in your face. In fact, you might get in trouble for an attempt at slandering my good name.”

Stan stopped trying to get away, and glared at his teacher. He wasn’t wrong. Stan was not well liked among the teachers, or even the students if he was going to be   
completely honest.

“I can make it worth your while,” Mr. Forrester said, pulling him so close that Stan was almost falling off the table. “I’d be willing to give you an A on your final without actually looking at it.”

Stan’s ears perked up at this. He’d never received an A on anything in his entire life, even when he’d copied off of Ford.

No.

No there was no way that he was considering this. Trading sex for a grade? That was unthinkable.

But his parents would be happy if they saw he’d aced his chemistry final…so would Ford.

Ford.

“I don’t think my brother would—”

“Your brother would be so proud if he saw you aced your final,” Mr. Forrester said softly, moving his hands upwards and stroking Stan’s sides with the very tips of his fingers, sending shivers down his spine. “He doesn’t need to know how you got your A, all he needs to know is that you got it. And anyway,” Mr. Forrester said, leaning in so close that Stan could practically count each and every one of his eyelashes, “I can guarantee that I’m much better than anyone you’ve ever been with.”

There was no time to react or respond as Mr. Forrester wrapped a hand around the back of Stan’s neck and pulled him in, kissing him full on the mouth. It wasn’t just any kiss, though. It was a hungry kiss, fueled by passion and desire. Stan had never been kissed like this before, and he knew he shouldn’t be enjoying it, this was his teacher for God’s sake! But he found himself melting, and returning the pressure. Alright…maybe he could do this. When the kiss ended, he looked into Mr. Forrester’s eyes and saw a predatory gleam in them. And in one swift movement, Stan found himself being yanked off of the desk and into his teacher’s lap, where he could feel an erection starting.

“Am I better than your brother already?” his teacher asked, a smug look on his face.

“Well…maybe,” Stan said guiltily. Ford wasn’t bad…he was just unskilled.

“Maybe? _Maybe?_ ” Mr. Forrester said, annoyed. “I plan to fix that answer.” And once again, his lips were on Stan’s, but Stan was ready this time. The kisses were rough, sloppy, and Mr. Forrester quickly worked Stan’s mouth open with his own, snaking his tongue inside. Stan couldn’t help but let out a tiny noise of pleasure as their tongues touched, and he slipped his own inside of his teacher’s mouth.

Mr. Forrester moved his hands down to Stan’s ass and gripped it hard, causing Stan to give a little yelp.

“God, your ass is amazing,” he growled, and began to roughly move Stan’s hips back and forth on his lap. Stan got the picture, and began to grind against his teacher’s growing erection, until Mr. Forrester was leaning his head back and making muffled moaning noises. Stan leaned forwards and began to kiss his teacher’s neck as he moved, which caused Mr. Forrester to let out a loud groan.

“Come here, you,” Mr. Forrester mumbled, pushing his hands under Stan’s thighs and picking him up. Stan was shocked at this, and instinctively wrapped his legs around his teacher’s waist as he stood. Mr. Forrester was a lot stronger than Stan had thought.

He was roughly placed onto the desk again, but this time, Stan was on his back. Mr. Forrester bent over and continued kissing him, hands moving downward, finding Stan’s erection. Slowly, his teacher began to rub him with the heel of his hand, and Stan moaned into Mr. Forrester’s mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Mr. Forrester fumbled with the buttons to Stan’s fly saying something that sounded and awful lot like “damn it I forgot multiple button flys were in fashion” but eventually managed to get Stan’s pants undone. He practically ripped them off of Stan, and tugged down his boxers, exposing Stan’s dick. He lazily rubbed the head of Stan’s cock with his thumb, and then bent over, sticking the very tip into his mouth and sucking hard. Stan’s entire body jerked, and Mr. Forrester swirled his tongue around his head, indulging Stan for a bit before standing back up.

“Hold on a second,” he grunted, and opened the very top center drawer to his desk, pulling out out a bottle of

“Is that lube?” Stan said craning his neck up. “Do you just keep lube in your desk?”

“No,” Mr. Forrester said, cracking open the bottle and squirting a generous amount into one of his hands. “But I was feeling confident this morning.”

“You were planning on–”

“If you must speak,” Mr. Forrester said, an edge to his voice, “could it please, for the love of God, be something sexy? Actually you know what, scratch that, you were never—I mean…” he looked a little bit flustered at this, and began to coat his hands in the lubricant a little more forcefully than necessary. He then took Stan in his hands, and began to work his cock, squeezing hard as he went up, smiling at the moaning and gasping that was coming out of Stan’s mouth.

“No, no,” he said as Stan put his knuckles in his mouth to silence himself, “Nobody’s here, make all the noise you want. In fact,” he said bending forwards and giving Stan’s jawline a couple of kisses, “I insist that you do. If you want the grade, you will make noise for me.”

Reluctantly, Stan removed his fingers from his mouth, and whimpered as his teacher continued to pleasure him. This was the best handjob he’d ever received. Not even Carla, who claimed to have been with other men, had done as good of a job as Mr. Forrester. Was it his large hands that making it amazing? Or was it simply the fact that his teacher had probably given many a handjob in his nearly 60 years of being alive?

“Now,” Mr. Forrester purred, “Get ready for a rather different sensation.”

Stan felt his teacher slowly rub the entrance to his body with a wet thumb, and, damn that felt good! But it seemed like a very personal, very intimate thing to do to another person. Did he really want it from him?

“You promise,” Stan panted heavily, craning his neck up for the second time to look at his teacher, “that you’ll give me an A and you…you…won’t..t-tell on…me and Ford i-if I do this?”

“Oh Stanley! You hurt me,” Mr. Forrester said taking mock offense. “If I am anything, I am man of my word. You have nothing to fear.”

“Okay,” Stan said, placing his head back down on the desk. “Okay.”

Ever so gently, almost lovingly, Mr. Forrester inserted a finger into Stan’s ass. And it felt like…

Well, goddamnit, it felt like a finger up his ass. What the hell was the appeal to this? But then, his teacher gently curled his finger up and hit…oh god, Stan had no idea what he’d hit but fuck.

“Holy shit!” Stan gasped, and Mr. Forrester began to move his finger back and forth, and then inserted a second, and made that same curling gesture, and Stan’s eyes rolled back into his head. This felt so good better than anything he’d experienced ever in his life and my god his teacher had better not ever stop.

And then he felt a hand on his dick gently stroking, but Mr. Forrester was still moving his fingers back and forth faster and faster and Stan wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last it was too good too good too

Suddenly all sound had been sucked from the air and all he could feel was pure pleasure shooting down through his thighs and up through his dick. Fireworks were exploding before his eyes and damn in fact, he was exploding. And when he finally came down from his high he looked up and saw Mr. Forrester’s face. His eyes were wider than dinner plates, and his mouth was curled in a smile filled with pleasure and surprise.

“Never in my life,” Mr. Forrester said, amused “Have I ever heard anyone scream so loudly. I think I may be deaf.”

“’M sorry…” Stan mumbled, traces of his orgasm still making his thighs tingle. Mr. Forrester shook his head as he removed his fingers from Stan’s body and leaned over for a kiss.

“Don’t you dare be sorry for that,” Mr. Forrester said. “That was…goddamn.”

“Do you need me to…?” Stan said, remembering what Mr. Forrester had said about reciprocation.

“I think I said,” Mr. Forrester interrupted, “That today, I expect nothing from you. But you do need to be cleaned up.” Again, for what seemed like the thousandth time, his teacher bent over and began to lick up the cum that had gotten all over Stan’s shirt. At the sight Stan could feel himself, somehow, stiffening up ever so slightly, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Mr. Forrester.

“Ah in my old age I forget how fast you young people are able to get it up again. But we don’t have time for another round, you’ll be missed at home. Sit up,” he commanded, and Stan obliged. He was handed his clothes, and Stan pulled them on slowly, still feeling a bit drunk from that orgasm.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Stan mumbled, and Mr. Forrester’s face broke out into a grin.

“Well, if you’re ever disappointed with your brother’s sorry attempts at sex, or just need a better grade on an assignment, I’ll always have time for you. Uh, also,” Mr. Forrester said, looking critically at Stan, “I think your family will buy that you spilled a chemical on your shirt.”

“Wha—aw shit!” Stan said, looking down at himself. “You think?”

“Stanley, the amount of times I’ve had to lecture you for not being careful with classroom equipment…yes they will believe you. Run along now.”

Stan stood up, walked over and grabbed his bag, and waved goodbye to his teacher. He couldn’t believe that he had just done that. And what was more shocking was the fact that he had every intention of doing it again.


End file.
